Torn
by oh-klaroline
Summary: "Maybe one day you'll let me." Klaus' voicemail is burning a hole in Caroline's phone, and she listens to it over and over again, until she's finally had enough. Packing a bag, she goes to see him to confront him and these growing feelings she can't quite understand. Canon-compliant only up to 4x20.
1. Part 1

**A/N: Wrote this right after the backdoor pilot to The Originals aired, when Klaus leaves Caroline that message at the end of the episode. This story is canon-compliant only up to that point. I didn't know anything about Camille, I thought she would actually be likeable. This was actually the very first Klaroline fic I ever wrote, and I posted this on my tumblr with matching graphics for each part. This is a slightly more edited version of the parts posted there, but if you want to see the pics, visit my tumblr (check my profile) and check the 'Torn' tag.**

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><p><strong>Part 1<strong>

_"Caroline! I'm standing in one of my favourite places in the world, surrounded by food, music, art, culture, and all I can think about is how much I want to show it to you. Maybe one day you'll let me."_

Caroline stands in the middle of the empty hallway, staring at her phone after Klaus' message cuts off. She will never admit it to anyone, but this is the fifth time she's listened to it today. Each time she does, she feels differently than the last.

The first time she'd heard it, she had rolled her eyes and laughed. The next, she couldn't help the small smile that crept up on her face, and she had promptly shaken her head to clear it. The third time, she had felt a teeny, tiny, pinprick of pain in her chest, because Klaus had gone and he hadn't even said goodbye. The last time he'd left town, he'd gone to her school dance to let her know, and they weren't even semi-friends then yet. Not that she _needed_ to know, of course. She just had this stupid notion that he'd make it a habit to drop by before taking off. The fourth time she'd listened to it, she had an overwhelming feeling of curiosity as to where he was when he had called, and had tried to figure it out by deciphering the background noises to no avail.

And this time, her fifth time listening to it? She feels…

_Embarrassed._ There is no other way to put it. Didn't she just spend her prom night dancing in the dark with Tyler? Tyler, her boyfriend. Her…_ex_-boyfriend? When he'd sent her that note about leaving the Lockwood manor to Matt, she'd thought it meant that they were done. She loved Tyler, but he was basically telling her that he wouldn't be back any time soon. She had come to terms with that, that she may never see Tyler again in the foreseeable future. And then he'd just showed up, dressed for prom no less, asking if she really thought he would miss prom. _Her_ prom. And they'd danced quietly, clutching each other like a pair of tragic Shakespearean lovers, doomed to meet in secret, forever trapped in the darkness.

And then it was over. He'd had to leave before people started arriving for the after party, never saying when he'd be back. _If_ he'd be back at all. And she stood there alone in the dark, arms empty and heart aching. She'd caught sight of her reflection in the window, eyebrows knitted together, eyes brimming with tears, in the most gorgeous gown she'd ever worn. She'd looked the part of a jilted princess bride, all thanks to the beautiful dress she'd borrowed from Klaus.

And then, for some reason she would never be able to figure out, nor reveal to anyone else for that matter, she'd felt _guilty_. She'd stared at herself, fists clutching the white beaded skirt of her gown, feeling like she'd just betrayed someone.

If she was being honest, these confusing feelings weren't exactly newfound. Each moment she spent with Klaus added more and more to her guilt, for no apparent reason. Every laugh, every moment she enjoyed, every glimpse she got of the _Klaus-that-could-be-saved_ planted little seeds of confusion and guilt in her head. She had to admit, the vulnerable Klaus who so desperately needed her to take his mind off the trick Silas played on him made her feel like _she_ could save him. And the way he acted after that, she may as well have.

"Hey!"

Caroline almost jumps out of her skin when Matt taps her on the shoulder. She tries to hide her phone but it slips from her fingers and goes flying a few feet in the air before Matt snatches it up and saves it.

"Here," he says, handing it back to her. "Why are you so jumpy? Are you okay?"

"Yeah! Of course, what do you mean?" she asks nervously, putting the phone in her back pocket. "I'm not jumpy. You just surprised me."

"Sure, Care," Matt laughs, shaking his head and gesturing down the hall. "C'mon, I thought you wanted my help taking down the prom stuff. On a Sunday no less!"

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><p>Caroline sits in the middle of her bed, staring at her phone in front of her, as if it's about to explode. After they had taken down and thrown away the prom decorations, Matt had to go to work and she said she was tired and wanted to go take an afternoon nap. But then she gets home and listens to Klaus' message again and doesn't feel tired at all. Instead, she's been sitting like a statue in her bed for the better part of an hour, alternating between staring at her phone, and playing back the message. She doesn't even notice that she's chewing on her nails until she draws blood.<p>

Before she even realizes that she's trying to make a decision, her overnight bag is packed and she is already calling Stefan.

She's on the road to New Orleans an hour after noon.

Stefan nonchalantly asked Rebekah where her brother was for Caroline. God only knows what excuse he made up for his curiosity, but she has never understood how those two worked anyway. She can't keep track of when they're sleeping together or driving stakes and daggers through each other.

She decides to drive for more than thirteen hours instead of flying for three to give herself time to back out in case she changes her mind halfway there. She also knows that this is a very rash decision, and wants to make sure that she still feels the same after the day is done. Heck, she doesn't even _know_ how she feels. She just wants to talk to Klaus, and see if all the guilt she's been feeling has a point. Perhaps seeing him outside Mystic Falls will also help her see him in an objective light.

And sure, maybe she is just a little bit curious about the appeal of New Orleans after Klaus called it one of his favorite places that he wanted to show to her.

Thirteen and a half hours, and all the songs on her iPod library later, she arrives in New Orleans and checks into a motel, planning to go to sleep and looking for Klaus in the morning. But then she just sits on the bed again, the sounds of the city enticing her to go out and explore. How do people even sleep in this place?

So explore she goes, purse in hand, leaving her car and her bag at the motel. She doesn't know where she's going, but the city is so alive that it doesn't even matter. The people she passes in the streets smile at her and offer her drinks (which she politely declines), or grabs her hands for a dance (which she gladly does), and she can't remember the last time she had this much fun on her own, surrounded by people she doesn't even know. She has lived all her life in Mystic Falls, where everybody knows everybody, which she loves, of course, but it isn't exactly a place you'd let your hair down to try and discover new things.

She's been wandering around for about half an hour when she is stopped in her tracks by the very face she came to the city to see, across the street and about to walk inside a bar. She means to call his name, but she is suddenly frozen to the spot, unable to even take a breath or blink. The only movement her body makes is the double beating of her heart, and she can't even tell if it does that out of excitement or out of fear.

She is snapped out of it by a group of rowdy guys who passes her, laughing loudly and whistling at her. Her feet start moving of their own accord, crossing the street and entering the packed bar. She finds a seat by the bar and orders a drink, after showing the bartender her fake ID. The girl raises an eyebrow at her and chuckles, but serves her anyway, and Caroline decides that she likes her a lot.

"You're not from around here, are you?" the bartender asks over the music, placing her rum and coke on top of a napkin and pushing it towards her. "I haven't seen you before."

"No, I'm not," she answers, taking a sip from the glass. _Damn, that's good._ "I'm just here to see…uhm, a friend."

"Ah," the girl says, before extending her hand to Caroline. "I'm Camille."

"Caroline," she smiles, returning the handshake. "Nice to meet you. You're actually the first person I've met here."

"Really?" Camille asks incredulously. "In this place?"

"Well, you're the first person who's given me their name," she laughs, taking another sip of her drink. "This is really good, by the way."

Camille winks at her playfully before excusing herself to serve a group of girls at the other end of the bar. Caroline takes that time to scan the room, looking for that familiar head of brown curls and Henley shirt.

"So, is your friend here right now?" Camille asks, making Caroline jump in her seat. "Wow, you are a mess."

"I'm sorry, I drove for thirteen hours and haven't slept yet, so yeah, I kinda' am a mess," she laughs. "And I saw him come in here, but I can't really find him in this crowd."

"Oh, what's his name? I know almost everyone in here," the bartender offers, leaning on the bar and looking around.

"Well, he's not really from around here either," she says, playing with the thin straw of her drink. "He probably just got here a couple of days ago. Klaus. That's his name."

"Oh, sure," Camille says, waving her hand. "I know him. He's friends with Marcel. That's him over there, sitting with Miss Eyebrows."

Caroline turns to look at the table Camille nods at, and sure enough, there he is. She decides to ignore the fact that she's able to identify him simply by the back of his head and the slope of his shoulders, and is just about to get up to approach him when she looks at the girl he's talking to. Not for the first time that night, she finds herself frozen to her spot.

_Hayley._

"Aren't you going to say hi?" Camille asks from behind her, leaning across the bar so her head is right beside Caroline's shoulder.

"Well," she starts, turning around and smiling at Camille. "He's talking to that girl right now. I think I'll just wait."

Camille furrows her brow, and Caroline is thankful when a guy starts to order a long list of drinks. The bartender walks off to make them, and Caroline strains her ears to try to listen in on Klaus and Hayley. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Hayley's jaw is set and she doesn't look too pleased with her companion.

What are these two doing together? In New Orleans, too! Didn't Hayley plot against Klaus as much as Tyler did? Why is her head still connected to her shoulders? Or has she found something to barter for her life? Are they meeting here to discuss betraying more of her werewolf friends?

_"Let me be perfectly clear here, sweetheart. The moment you give birth to _my_ child, I am through with you. I will raise it on my own, and you will forget us. You will leave this city, or I will have your head on a platter. Either way, you are not going to be a part of my child's life. Understood?"_

Caroline's stomach drops. There is no denying what she'd just heard, or who had said it. The words, the accent, the promise in them were _so_ Klaus, yet she still can't believe she heard it right. Klaus and Hayley? Since _when_? Before the massacre? After?! _How?_

She stares at her reflection on her half empty glass, and before she can stop it, a tear escapes from her eye and drops into the brown drink. She angrily wipes at her traitorous eye, blames fatigue for the tear, before downing the rest of her drink in one gulp and grabbing her purse. She takes out her wallet and notices the rolled up paper she didn't even realize she'd crammed insider her purse earlier that day. She leaves it at the bar with the bill for her drink without even turning around to look at Klaus again.

"Hey!" Camille calls when she gets up from her seat. "You going already?"

"Yeah," she answers a little too loudly over her shoulder, plastering the fakest smile in human history on her pale face. "I gotta go."

It takes all her strength not to run out of the bar, her knuckles white as she clutches her purse in both hands. The moment she feels the night breeze hit her face, she is off, running into the night and feeling like the stupidest girl ever. What was she thinking? Why did she even come here?

She plans on grabbing her stuff at the motel and just driving back home immediately, but when she gets there, she can't help but curl up in bed on top of the covers. She is so angry she wants to rip someone's throat out. Klaus' or Hayley's should be a good start.

Why did he even leave that stupid message? What was the point? He was gone, away from her, out of her life. Couldn't he have just left her alone? Let her live her small town life while he started his big city werewolf family thousands of miles away? _What the hell is wrong with him?__  
><em>  
>And then she's full on crying, tears spilling down her face and on to the covers. Her confusion, guilt, anger, <em>guilt over her anger<em>, and the lack of sleep finally take its toll on her and she weeps like her father is dying again. Like Tyler is leaving again. She shakes violently and clutches her knees closer to her chest, and then fully clothed, she finally falls asleep.

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><p><em>"Yeah, I gotta go."<em>

Klaus stops glaring at Hayley when he hears that all-too-familiar voice. For a minute he thinks he's imagining it, his mind playing tricks on him for missing her. Slowly, he turns around and looks at the bar where the bartender, Camille is standing, looking confused.

"Like hell, Klaus," Hayley grumbles. "This child is my only fa—"

"Shut up, Hayley," he says, without turning back around. He stands up and walks to the bar, where Camille is now holding a piece of rolled up paper.

"Who was that just now?" he asks, eyeing the paper in her hands. "The girl you were talking to. Is that hers?"

"Yeah, I think so," Camille answers, about to unroll the paper. "She said her name was Caroline. She was actually looking for you."

"I'll have that, thank you," he says, holding his palm out. "Now."

"Okay," Camille says, rolling her eyes and handing it to him before she's fully unrolled it. "What is it, anyway? Is it a note?"

Klaus slowly unrolls the piece of paper even though he has a pretty good idea what it is, if that girl truly was Caroline. The only thing that's giving him any doubt is the fact that Caroline wouldn't be in New Orleans right now, out at night all on her own. She would be in Mystic Falls, getting ready to finish out her senior year with her friends.

But he is right, of course. It's the drawing he'd made of her, gazing at a horse and smiling, with his note at the bottom corner. It takes all his strength not to tear that piece of paper, or the entire building apart, because he knows what she means by leaving it there. He knows she is done with him, before they've even had a chance to start.

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><p><strong>AN: Comments/reviews are always much appreciated. As a newbie, I could use all the help I can get.**


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Klaus sits in the dark, twirling the piece of paper between his fingers, as he listens to Caroline sniffling in her sleep. She had fallen asleep on top of the covers still fully dressed, hugging her knees. He knows he's crossing yet another line right now, waiting in the dark like some hunter studying his prey, but he just will not risk having her slip away from him a second time when she is this close.

Her back is turned to him, so he can't see her face, but her intoxicating smell alone is enough to distract him from his impatience. He wants to talk to her already, to look into her eyes to ask what she's doing in New Orleans. He wants to see her smile again, to make her laugh. But she's only just fallen asleep, and it's going to be a few hours before he gets what he wants.

So he sits there, studying what he can see of her, what he can smell, what he can hear from her. Her wavy blonde hair looks windblown and smells like lavender, as usual. She is wearing black boots, blue jeans and a dark jacket. Aside from her usual vanilla body wash, he can also smell her tears, salty and everywhere, as they dry up on her cheeks and on the covers. Her breathing sounds labored, her heart beating extra hard to accommodate for it. And again, the sniffling. Every once in a while, she mumbles something in her sleep, but he can't make out anything.

Without even thinking about it, he places the piece of paper in his hand inside his jacket pocket, and reaches for the notepad and pencil sitting on the table next to him. He starts drawing her again, curled up on the lumpy motel bed, back looking rigid and uncomfortable. He pays close attention to the slopes and curves of her body, the way her hair splays out over the pillows, and even the creases on her old worn-out jacket. He had always drawn Caroline from memory, never having the chance to sit down and study her as closely as he does now.

After a while, he senses her starting to wake up and suddenly feels a little apprehensive. He knows Caroline heard his conversation with Hayley, he isn't looking forward to explaining any of that. But what he is truly nervous about is finding out her reason for being in the city in the first place.

He watches as she slowly unfurls from her position, sitting on her ankles, arms reaching towards the headboard, then pulling down and stretching like a cat. He can't help the smile on his face as his eyes travel appreciatively down her body.

As she sits up in bed, he finds himself moving his head a little, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face before she realizes that he's in the room with her. He sees part of her profile, her hair covering most of it, and he feels a stab of pain in his chest at what he sees. Dear sweet Caroline, whose face usually looks like the sun breaking from the horizon, looks unbelievably sad. He'd seen her close to death on more than one occasion, but she's never looked this hurt. Her eyes, her nose, even her mouth are swollen and red.

If he'd ever doubted whether there was beauty in sadness, however, the sight of Caroline in the morning after she'd cried herself to sleep just chased those doubts away.

He wishes for a brief moment that he could read her mind, as she sits there, staring off into space, brow furrowed as if in concentration. Finally, she makes an irritated sound, then flops back down on the bed, making Klaus smile again.

"_Right,"_ she mutters, before rolling off the bed and heading for the dresser across the small room. He watches her rummage through her overnight bag while studying her reflection, and then their eyes meet in the mirror.

"_What the hell?_" she gasps, turning around and looking at him accusingly. "What are you doing here, you creep?"

Turns out, he doesn't need telepathy to read her thoughts. Without taking his eyes off her face, he moves his head slightly to the left to avoid the brush that goes flying straight for his head, and catches it with his hand.

"I could ask you the same question, love," he answers, playing with her pink hairbrush.

"What?" she asks distractedly, making the smile on Klaus' face grow even wider. She looks genuinely surprised at seeing him, and he doesn't miss the way she clenches her fists at her sides. "How long have you _been_ here?"

"Again, I could ask the same of you," he replies, knowing full well that his cheekiness will not help him right now.

"Yeah?" she snaps, crossing her arms angrily and leaning back against the dresser. "Well, I asked you first. Besides, you're the one who snuck in my room like some creepy stalker in a Stephenie Meyer novel."

For a moment she's lost him, and he can feel the stupid look on his face. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Never mind," she says, shaking her head impatiently. "Just answer my question."

"To answer your first question, I'm here because I had a feeling that you were leaving New Orleans without so much as a hello my way."

"Oh, like the way you left Mystic Falls without saying goodbye?" she mutters, before dropping her head and playing with her hair.

Klaus isn't sure if she meant for him to hear that. He isn't even sure if he _did_ hear that.

"I'm kidding," she chuckles humorlessly, and Klaus knows he heard right. And his heart grows three sizes at that moment.

"Right," he answers, biting his lip to keep from grinning stupidly. "And I've been here since you fell asleep."

"How did you even _find_ me?" she demands.

"Now now," he says, raising his finger in a mock reprimand. "I've answered your questions, and now it's only fair that you answer mine. What are you doing in New Orleans, Caroline?"

He watches her fidget uncomfortably before turning around to go through her bag again. "Thought it was Mardi Gras?" she tries unconvincingly.

He hates the small distance between them, especially now that she's put up all the old walls he'd worked so hard to break down before. In a flash, he is standing behind her, perhaps too close, but he's never been known for his restraint or patience.

"Caroline," he whispers in her ear. He watches as small goosebumps raise the minuscule hairs on her neck, making him smile.

"Fine!" she snaps, twirling around suddenly so that her face is now inches from his.

He can finally look at her beautiful face upclose, his blue eyes searching the small flecks of gold in her green ones. He swallows as his eyes travel down to her swollen lips, and he has to fight the urge to grab her face and kiss her right then and there.

"Your stupid voicemail got me all curious and confused and I thought coming here and seeing you and talking to you will help me clear things up, but that's obviously not gonna' happen now, so yeah, I _was _leaving the city without saying hello!"

Whatever he thought she'd say, it wasn't that, nor did he expect her to be so angry about it. They stare at each other for what feels like hours, Klaus with his surprised expression, Caroline struggling to catch the breath she doesn't even need.

"And I got here last night," she adds finally, visibly releasing the tension that has built on her shoulders since she woke up that morning.

"And leaving already?" he asks, taking her hand to place her small brush in it. "You haven't even seen the city, love."

"Yeah, well," she stammers, looking uncomfortably at their hands. "I'm already missing school today and I'm sure my mom isn't too pleased with me right now for leaving town with only a note."

"Oh, come now," he chuckles. "We both know you've earned enough credits to graduate valedictorian twice already. You're going to ace your finals. Let me show you the city."

"No, Klaus," she answers forcibly, snatching her hand from his clasp. "I'm going home to my friends and family. You go back to _yours_."

The accusation in that last word hangs heavy in the air, confirming Klaus' fear that she did indeed hear his conversation with Hayley at the bar last night.

She turns back to her bag, taking out things and putting them back in, unable to decide what to do. The tension is back in her shoulders, and Klaus longs to fix things, but has no idea how. He also has no idea why he's reaching for her right now, and he holds his breath as his hand makes contact with her arm.

"Caroline, love," he whispers, frustrated. He watches through the mirror as Caroline closes her eyes and freezes at his touch. She seems to be counting as she steadies her breath.

When she opens her eyes, they no longer look angry, but defeated. Even her shoulders slump when she speaks. "Please, Klaus. I can't. I ca-.. I just can't anymore."

"Let me at least explain," he finds himself saying, turning her around to face him again as his hands grip her arms. His eyes study her face, and he hates that he had anything to do with the sadness that's now replaced the beautiful smile he'd always loved.

"Explain _what?"_ she asks, smiling sadly. "There's nothing to explain, Klaus. We were never anything. We _never_ will be."

And for the first time, he genuinely fears that there is truth in those words. Over the course of the year, he'd slowly chipped away at the shell she'd worn around him, and he had truly believed that she would one day give this a chance, no matter how much she'd denied his effect on her. If this is it, he thinks, furrowing his brows and gathering his courage, he's gonna' go all in and go for the kiss.

But then, she turns her head away and clenches her eyes tight. "Don't," she whispers.

"What?" He chuckles. The moment's passed. "What are you doing, love?"

He watches amusedly as she opens one eye to peek up at him, and then visibly relaxes when she sees him smiling down at her. And then she actually _giggles_.

"I thought you were going to compel me or something," she says, and he feels disgusted that she actually thinks he could stoop to compelling her to love him.

He releases her arms quickly and takes a step back, realizing how much he is encroaching on her personal space. "Caroline, love, I would _never_ do that to you."

She swallows and avoids his eyes. "Wouldn't be the first time someone compelled me to stay, so I thought—" she mumbles.

"No, I wouldn't. I couldn't do that to you," he says, cutting her off. Briefly, he feels rage at the thought of someone compelling her to do something she doesn't want to do, but he has no idea who to direct the anger at. He'll find out soon enough. "If you were going to stay, I'd like for it to be your own choice, for it to be what you truly want."

"Okay," she answers, finally sounding convinced. "So, you and Hayley, huh?"

He's so taken aback by her question that he chokes on air, and he watches as she turns around and buries her face in her hands. He's thankful for that, because he is able to reassemble his expression before she speaks again.

"Never mind, don't answer that."

"No, I want to," he says, pulling her hands down from her face and looking into her eyes through the mirror. "There is no Hayley and I, trust me. It was one night, one time. Bad judgment and alcohol were involved. _A lot_ of alcohol was involved."

She looks back at him, clearly trying to make up her mind whether to believe him or not, until the corner of her mouth slowly twitches into a small smile. He squeezes her hands briefly before releasing them and stepping back again.

"And now…" she starts to say, but bites her lower lip instead, turning back around to face him.

"Yes?" he asks, eyes drawn to her perfect mouth. "Go on."

"Now, you're going to be a father." It isn't a question, he realizes. She says it like she's just checking what it feels like to say it. "This is a trip."

"I'd really rather not talk about that now, love," he says, running his hand through his hair. "What do you say, can I show you around the city?"

"No, that's okay, Klaus," she answers, smiling at him before turning to her bag again and taking out a small pouch. "I saw some of it last night, and I really can't stay any longer. I have a 13 hour drive ahead of me, and I better get going."

"You _drove_ here?" he asks, incredulously. "Why? You could've flown."

"This is going to sound stupid, but I wanted to give myself a chance to back out in case I changed my mind."

"Is that why you didn't call me immediately when you got here?" he asks, watching as she pulls out bottles and tubes from the small bag in her hand. "I'd have met you here, you know."

"Yeah," she starts absentmindedly. "I wasn't even going to go out, I wanted to sleep and find you in the morning, but the city sounded so alive outside my window. I never thought I'd see you right away."

"Have lunch with me," he says suddenly. "Please. I want to take you to my favorite spots here."

She laughs, looking at him and shaking her head. "What part of '13 hour drive' can't you understand?"

"I'll book you a flight in the afternoon, and we'll send someone to drive your car back to Mystic Falls. You'll get there before it does."

She laughs, clearly thinking that he's just made a joke. When she looks at him and sees his expression, she raises her eyebrows at him.

"Seriously?" she asks, chuckling. "Have you managed to sire more hybrids in the last couple of days?"

That makes him laugh. "I've managed perfectly fine without hybrids for hundreds of years, love. I still have people working for me."

"Compelled?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"No," he laughs, sitting down on the bed and looking up at her. "What is it with you and compulsion?"

"Nothing," she answers, and he can feel her closing up again, so he quickly changes the subject.

"So, what do you say? Let me show you the city?"

"Fine," she relents, throwing a tube of toothpaste at him. He lets it hit him this time, and it falls on his lap. "Only because I really liked what I saw of the city last night."

"Sure," he smiles, handing the toothpaste back to her. "_Only _because of that."

She rolls her eyes at him as she snatches the tube from his hand and starts for the bathroom. "I need a shower first, though. Come back after an hour."

He nods and gets up from the bed. "You know, you could take a shower at my place. I'm sure it's much more sanitary."

"Tempting," she chuckles, already inside the small bathroom. "But no."

He laughs as she closes the door on him. Reaching inside his jacket, he takes out the rolled up piece of paper and puts it inside her bag. As he is about to leave, he sees the notepad on the table and tears the paper with his drawing of her from the pad, folds it and places it inside his jacket. His day has just gotten _a lot_ better.

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><p><strong>AN: As always, reviews/comments are welcome and much appreciated. **


	3. Part 3

**Part 3**

Klaus waits by her car, leaning on the hood with his legs crossed at the ankles, like he has all the time in the world. And he does, of course. He is immortal. An Original vampire. _The Original Hybrid_. He has all the time in the world to tear it down, to make it kneel before him, to bleed it dry and suck on its life force.

That doesn't do him much, however, he only has a few short hours with Caroline today. A few precious hours to show her a fraction of the world he wants to lay at her feet. A tiny drop from the infinite pool of his immortality to show her what she's been missing, what she could have should she choose to take it. Where does one start?

He pushes off her small car when he senses her approaching, before she even crosses his line of sight. Is it the soft tapping of her feet on the pavement, or the warm vanilla and lavender scent she always seems to carry around with her that tips him off? He doesn't much care, really. At the back of his mind, he berates himself for this moment of weakness, this glimpse into his softer side that he usually hides where no one could ever reach to destroy him. This soft, fragile creature, breakable as the sun's rays but equally beautiful. Yes, she is his weakness; he can no longer deny this. There was a time when he would have crushed that weakness, smashed on it like a boot crunching an irritating insect to the ground. Weaknesses are dangerous, inconvenient, but he doesn't always come by them often, and perhaps that is why it is so easy to forget the proper way of dealing with them when he needs to.

Or perhaps, everything is just different when it comes to Caroline.

And there she is, blonde curls bouncing around happily each step she takes towards him, eyes searching his face apprehensively as if waiting for him to pounce on her. She smiles up at him tentatively when she reaches his side, embarrassed by their encounter earlier today, when feelings were unintentionally brought out and laid out in the open for anyone to see. It is always easy to reveal secrets in the confines of the dark; it is only when the light of day shines on them do we regret sending them off into the world.

"Hello again, Caroline," he greets, smiling down at her as he searches her face the same way she does his. The only difference is, he does this all the time, whenever he is around her. He studies her, every strand of yellow hair, every non-existent pore on her perfectly smooth skin. He looks at each part of her face every time and tucks every detail into a memory bank, the bank he opens each time he puts charcoal to paper, oil to canvas, motel pencil to motel notepad.

"Hi," she answers timidly, adjusting the strap of her overnight bag on her shoulder. He reaches for it quickly, relieving her of the weight and making her roll her eyes. "I may not be an Original Hybrid, but I still _am_ a vampire, you know. I can carry a small bag."

"Well, I still _am_ a gentleman, and my manners _cannot_ help themselves," he quips, before turning around and, as if by the mere flick of his fingers, a man appears out of thin air.

"Oh!" Caroline gasps, taking a step back. "Where'd you come from?"

The man simply smiles down at her, waiting for his boss to make the necessary introductions, but all Klaus wants to do is tear out his eyes from their sockets. He figures this would not impress Caroline, however, and he doesn't want their few hours marred by such trivial things.

"This is Cooper, love," he explains, handing her bag over to the tall, lanky man with the copper hair, and jutting cheekbones. "He'll be taking your things back to Mystic Falls, like we talked about this morning."

"Okay," Caroline says, nodding her head slowly and turning to Cooper. "This is embarrassing, I'm sorry he's making you do this."

"It's no problem, Caroline," Cooper answers, extending his hand towards her, palm up. "May I have the keys to you car?"

"Oh, sure," she mumbles, rummaging in her purse. Klaus watches as she becomes more flustered each second that ticks by without the keys. He notices Cooper smiling down at her adoringly, and he steps in front of him to block his view, because it's all he can do in front of Caroline. Yes, all he can do is act like a 12-year-old.

"Here they are!" she finally exclaims, holding her keys up triumphantly. She unhooks the extra set of keys from her massive keyring with the numerous keys she possesses for god knows what and starts to hand them to Cooper. Klaus snatches them from her and hands them to the other man instead. "Thanks again," Caroline calls, as Cooper gets into her car with a smile and a wave. "Drive safe."

"Caroline," he says, feeling irritated. "Drive safe? He's a _vampire_! Save for crashing into a tree and getting impaled by one of its branches, he's practically invincible."

"I'm sorry, _my_ manners cannot allow me to just order people around without being grateful," she huffs, snapping her purse shut.

"Touché," he chuckles, his irritation easily forgotten. "To lunch, then?"

Caroline rolls her eyes at him as she walks past his outstretched arm, and what he can feel is a stupid grin on his face.

"So where are you taking me?" she asks, hands clutching her purse nervously. Klaus longs to take one of them in his to squeeze it and make her feel at ease.

"We're going to Chartres House," he answers, clasping his hands behind his back instead, but inching closer to her as they walk. "And there you can catch me up on all the latest Mystic Falls gossip."

* * *

><p>He watches amusedly as Caroline sits across from him, staring at all the food that is laid out in front of them. Looking down at the table, at the po-boys, and the crawfish, and the shrimp jambalaya, and the multi-colored cocktails he's ordered, he considers the possibility that he might have over-ordered. Possibly.<p>

"Wow," she mutters, looking at him with wide eyes. "Are we hosting a party, or something?"

He laughs at this, and grabs a piece of shrimp from the jambalaya, popping it in his mouth. "Go on, then, love. Dig in."

"But I don't even know where to _start_," she says, eyes frantically looking at all the food again. "So many choices, so little time."

"Here," he says, pushing a plate towards her. "Try the po-boy."

"What's in it?" she asks, before taking it from the plate. "Never mind, I'll find out soon enough."

He smiles adoringly as Caroline takes a generous bite from the massive sandwich, eyes closing shut in appreciation, a low groan escaping her throat.

"Oh my god! Where have you _been_ all my life?" she exclaims, looking down at the sandwich after swallowing her first bite. She looks at Klaus as she wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb, and rolls her eyes. "Shut up!"

"I didn't say anything," he laughs, grabbing another shrimp and offering it to her. His cold dead heart must have done a dozen backflips when, instead of taking it from him and eating it, she just moves closer and takes it with her teeth. Sure, she makes sure there isn't any contact between them, but it speaks volumes of how far they've come as friends, at least.

They both sit back in their seats, Caroline chewing quietly and looking down at the street below them. He had arranged for them to have the entire balcony to themselves, and they sit at the corner table under the protection of a red umbrella. Below them, the street teems with life, people on their lunch breaks and musicians that never seem to sleep playing jazz. He may or may not have compelled his way into having those particular musicians right below this particular balcony at this particular time.

His head slightly tilted to the side, he watches her as she taps her fingers and nods her head to the music, absentmindedly reaching for another shrimp and popping it into her mouth. If he tries hard enough, he can almost forget that this moment is fleeting. That each minute that passes by brings them closer to the plane that will take her away from him again. That every second, the distance between them grows and grows, until they have an entire ocean sitting solidly between them. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine her by his side for the rest of his immortality, and he can see meaning in his existence.

"I can see why you love this place so much," she mutters, snapping him from his reverie. "I wouldn't mind getting lost in these streets."

"So stay," he blurts out, quickly regretting his haste. "I mean, for a few more days. See the city properly."

She looks at him sadly, and he feels the inches pulling them further apart. "I can't," she says, shaking her head slowly and grabbing a cocktail from the table. "And even if I could, what would be the point? Why fall in love with a city that'll be out of my reach?"

"It _wouldn't_ be out of your reach," he answers, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. "New Orleans isn't going anywhere, Caroline."

"No, I know it isn't," she mutters, looking off into the distance while taking a sip from her drink. "But it's not my city. It's not my home, not the way Mystic Falls is. Not the way it is to you."

"Caroline," he starts, reaching for her hand as she places the glass back on the table. "You are so very young. You have the entire world waiting for you out there. Mystic Falls may be your home, but that shouldn't keep you from discovering the most beautiful corners of the world."

"I know," she says, and he doesn't miss the way she _doesn't _pull her hand away. Instead she looks him straight in the eye. "But this city, this particular place, I could so easily fall in love with it, I could see myself walking these streets just as easily as I walk the streets back home."

"So why don't you?" he asks, feeling genuinely confused, especially when she is looking at him so intensely, her brow furrowed above her beautiful eyes. "Why don't you give it a shot?"

She does that thing again, where she searches his face, looking for who-knows-what, before she squeezes his hand and sits back on her seat, taking her hand with her.

"What would be the point _now_?" she asks, shrugging her shoulders and looking away.

And then he understands what she is saying, and he does not quite know what to say to that. He longs to be able to grab her hand again, tell her that she can still have the city, the city can still be theirs, and no one can stand in their way. He wishes he can tell her how he can still whisk her away to his favorite spots of New Orleans, and they can fall in love with the city together over and over again. He _yearns_, yet he cannot be selfish, not with her. Never with her.

What has he to offer her, after all? A city ruled by a faux comrade, where not only would she have to be around the constant reminder of his drunken mistake, but she would also be put in danger? Where any moment, she could be plucked from the streets and used against him, by vampires or witches, or _both_. What else does he have in his back pocket, other than food and music and a city so alive, it pulses through the vein?

This is Caroline. She deserves _the world_. And maybe once, he could've handed it to her. Maybe once, she could have relished at the things he offered. But now? How do they move forward from this? How do they grab what isn't theirs to keep?

No, the world can still be hers; it is only he who has to relinquish it. He has to let it go, to let her find homes in different continents, to build a life where she chooses. All he can do is to make damn sure they are all well within her reach.

* * *

><p>They stand awkwardly in front of each other as Caroline's flight back home is announced. Frantically, he looks at her all over, memorizing each line, each freckle, as if he could ever forget any of it. As if she isn't already seared into his brain, she'd show up on a CAT Scan. He hears her take a deep breath and sigh, and his whole world could've crumbled at the sound.<p>

And then she is in his arms, or he is in hers. He doesn't know who took the first step closer, who reached out first, but it doesn't matter. This moment, this exact moment when they clutch each other like they'd never let go, it is the only thing that matters. His hand goes up to cradle her head, and he tangles his fingers with her soft blonde curls, the hand resting on her waist pulling her closer, as if he could swallow her up and keep her forever.

She steps back a few inches, and he reluctantly releases his hold on her head, allowing them to look at each other quietly. He feels a stinging in his eyes and grinds his teeth to pull himself together, but she stands on her toes and gives him a peck on the cheek, and tears escape, dropping where her lips meet his skin. She pulls away, licking her lips, before turning around and handing her ticket to the lady at the terminal. And just like that, she is gone. And his arms feel empty, as if they were used to having her there, as if he's always held her like his life depended on it.

As he steps out of the airport, and he hears the sound of a plane taking off, the city suddenly feels empty as well.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And there you have it. The third and final part of my first ever Klaroline piece. Initially, I thought I wasn't finished with this, and there is in fact another part somewhere in my drafts folder, but upon closer inspection, I realized this is a better place to stop. It's angsty and sad and will probably not earn me any friends in this fandom. But it's Klaroline, hey! Caroline could get married to Matt or Tyler or Enzo, and Klaus could have an entire battalion of weird magic babies, and they would still find their way back to each other eventually. As always, comments/reviews are welcome and very much appreciated.**

**To that guest reviewer, I don't mean I think Caroline would/should marry Enzo, of course not! Haha I just meant that either of them could go on to be "with" other people, but sooner or later, they will just find their way to each other again.**


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